


Hat Shot, Crack Shot

by k_bright



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_bright/pseuds/k_bright
Summary: Four times a hat was pinned to the wall, and one time the cowboy was pinned instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to thank my artist, ayumichan46, for being incredibly patient with me while I struggled to complete this story (missing a lot of personal deadlines in the process…). Her companion art for this piece can be found [here](http://ayumichan46.tumblr.com/post/155148898162/heres-my-companion-piece-to-eightbitsprites). She did a wonderful job, so shower her with lots of praise <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story!

At Gabriel's glare, Jesse reluctantly ground his cigar underneath his boot. He leaned back against the rumbling wall of the transport, watching as his commander turned back to Genji and their hushed conversation resumed. 

 

Jesse had thought Genji to be some sort of custom-built omnic when they first met some three-odd days ago, but he'd quickly been disabused of that notion during his introduction. He winced. Definitely not the best of first impressions. 

 

He tugged his hat lower and closed his eyes. It wasn't that he was tired, but there wasn't much else of interest other than the pair off in the corners, and he didn't feel like bothering the driver, either. Mills was scary if you got on her bad side.

 

The mission was fairly simple: one of the Shimada-gumi's lieutenants would be overseeing the reception of a large arms shipment. The plan was to take him out. Genji would be the one spearheading the operation - the Strike Commander had apparently put him in charge of everything regarding the yakuza clan - and the only reason Jesse was there was that Blackwatch had free agents, and Overwatch did not. 

 

As for Gabriel - the official reason for the Blackwatch commander's presence was to promote "cross-division cooperation", but Jesse couldn't help but remember how furious Gabriel had been after the last operation Overwatch had borrowed him for. He reckoned the same held for Morrison, judging by how loud the yelling had gotten after Gabe stormed into the Strike Commander's office.

 

If nothing else, this op would be a nice change from jungle dirt and sweltering heat. 

Their transport's door swung up and open after it came to a stop, revealing Nagoya Port. Jesse got up and followed Gabriel and Genji out onto the hard concrete, pausing a second to appreciate the cool sea breeze. 

 

It was nearly dusk. He could see ships flowing in and out of port, glimmering, but there was only silence here. 

 

Waves lapped at the dock as Gabriel and Jesse followed Genji towards a a long, squat, featureless warehouse ahead of them. Its concrete walls seemed to pack any sort of foothold, but Genji scaled them nimbly nonetheless.

 

As he slipped out of sight, presumably to check out the area, Gabriel leaned against one of several old, rusted shipping containers resting just parallel to the warehouse. Jesse joined him, running over the mission brief in his head. The shipment was due to arrive around nine, but the Shimada prided themselves on being early. So their target, Daisuke Himura, would arrive around eight, and be accompanied by a small security entourage. 

 

The plan was to get in, take Himura out, and leave. A surgical strike; vicious, precise. 

 

Soon enough, Genji returned. "There may be a slight problem." 

 

Gabriel said, "Like what?". 

 

"I expected two cars to be coming here - one for Dais —Himura and his personal guards, and another for additional security. There's five. Perhaps another lieutenant is coming alongside him, or …" Genji trailed off. 

 

"Or?" 

 

"...nothing. He'd never come, not for something so routine." Genji looked over at Gabriel. "It will be considerably more difficult to take out Himura. However, this opportunity will not come again. Should we proceed?" 

 

"Why ask me?" Gabriel growled. "This is an Overwatch operation, and Overwatch's leader has informed me that you're the one calling the shots here. I'm just here to keep an eye on this idiot." 

 

Jesse did his best not to meet anyone's eyes, heat rushing into his cheeks, but Genji acted like he hadn't heard, choosing instead to just look at the Blackwatch commander.

 

Surprisingly, Gabriel was the first to break the silence. "They're too close to get away cleanly at this point. I'd prefer to initiate on our terms, not theirs." 

 

"So I can count on your assistance?" 

 

"Why not." 

 

As Genji clambered back onto the roof, Gabriel waved Jesse over to a position by the corner of the warehouse. Barely a minute later, Jesse's earpiece crackled to life. 

 

"The target is approaching." 

 

"Roger," Gabriel replied.

 

Jesse glanced around the corner of the building and saw five pairs of lights just a little ways off. He drew back and leaned his head back against cool concrete, feeling the familiar buzz of adrenaline start to fizz in his veins. 

 

His nervous energy only mounted when he heard the soft whine of hovercars coming to a stop, but he stayed still. Right now, this was Genji's op. If it went well, the only thing he and Gabriel needed to do was provide cover for extraction. If not, they were to make their best effort to complete the mission objective.

 

It seemed like an eternity before yells broke the silence. Genji came over the intercom, terse and low.

 

"I was not successful. We should leave now." 

 

They'd barely begun to move when something whizzed past them and plunged into the ground. Jesse turned to look - it was an arrow, but its head was glowing. 

 

"Shit," Gabriel muttered. Jesse started sprinting, because Gabriel swearing was never a good sign.

 

" _ Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!"  _ a man roared, and the words sent tremors down to his bones. All of a sudden, he could feel immense heat bearing down on him before a solid hand shoved him out of the way. 

 

When he got up, he frowned. Blue sparks crackled in the air, but other than that, everything around him seemed intact. Then he turned and saw Gabriel sprawled out on the ground.

 

"Boss!"

 

"I'm alive," came the sour reply. "My leg's fucking killing me. Hand me an emitter."

 

Jesse dug into his pouch and placed the biotic emitter down by Gabriel's leg - and nearly recoiled at the stench of burned flesh.

 

"Boss-"

 

"Save it. I'll be fine in a bit."

 

Which was true - though they didn't hold a candle to Dr. Ziegler's fancy stick, the emitters were perfectly capable of handling even third-degree burns.

 

After a moment, Gabriel said into the comms, "Genji, report."

 

When no reply came, he sighed. "See if he needs assistance."

 

Jesse nodded and headed off. 

 

Jesse barely managed not to gape at the scene that greeted him. Genji had taken out half a dozen of the Shimada's goons singlehandedly, and was presently trying to tear another one apart. Those who currently not dead or unconscious - Jesse couldn't honestly tell which condition Genji had left them in - had their guns aimed at the sparring men, but clearly could not get a clear shot.

 

He ducked back into the shadows cast by one of the nearby shipping containers and drew his revolver, but didn't pick a target. If Himura was available, Jesse would target him, but the man was nowhere to be found. That left the Shimada's enforcers, but they were too spread out for Jesse to hit them all effectively with one of his stun grenades, and while he reckoned he might come out on top in a four-to-one fight, Gabriel would  _ kill _ him. 

 

As he waited for an opportunity to strike, Jesse had to wonder who exactly Genji was currently fighting with. While his uniform seemed fairly similar to the rest of the Shimada, he was still alive. If Jesse had been in his shoes, Genji probably would've sliced off every limb by now.

 

The man was also holding a bow. And had a quiver on his back.

 

Right as he came to the conclusion that this was probably the archer who'd nearly roasted him and Gabriel alive with god-knows-what, there was a  _ snick _ , a twist, and Genji's sword went flying into the air.

 

Gabe would understand. Maybe.

 

Jesse threw the flashbang. Half of the Shimada's guards went down, while the other two spun to face him. Jesse aimed and squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, and they crumpled to the ground.

 

" _ Duck! _ " 

 

Gabriel's voice suddenly blasted out from Jesse's earpiece, and he instinctively threw himself flat onto the ground. Something embedded itself in where his head had been right after.

 

Jesse got up and spat out dirt for the second time in ten minutes, just in time to see an arrow pin Genji's foot to the ground. The archer notched another arrow at Genji, but was diverted by a shout from one of the hovercars. 

 

It was Himura, clutching his shoulder, fighting someone clearly trying to keep him in the relative safety of the car. As he shouted at the archer again, Jesse fumbled for his gun, aimed, and fired - but his shot went wide. The windshield shattered, but Himura disappeared back into the hovercar. 

 

He would've focused on the archer next, but the man loosed an arrow at his feet - which somehow split into several streaks of light. Jesse threw himself backwards and brought up his arm, gritting his teeth as several lines of fire etched themselves over his arm.

 

By the time he could aim again, the archer was gone.

It was finally quiet. Jesse looked across the concrete expanse at Genji. He was silent, still; his head was bowed and his arms hung loosely at his sides, causing his sword to almost touch the ground. Even from here, Jesse could see a crack in Genji's shoulder plate, and he found himself wondering about what exactly the archer could have done caused the armor to split like that.

 

Absentmindedly, Jesse tried to adjust his hat, but found that it wasn't there. Before he could panic, however, Gabriel came up from behind him, and waved something in front of his face. "Hey,  _ mocoso _ , don't you think you're forgetting something?"

 

Jesse blinked for a second, then snatched his hat back. Ignoring Gabriel's chuckle, he put it on, but stopped when he felt his fingers prodding his scalp through the thick felt. A quick examination revealed two tears, opposite from each other.

 

"Better your hat than your head. Hanzo Shimada rarely misses his mark."

 

Genji's cool tone was bizarre, considering the fury with which he'd displayed only minutes before. 

 

"Hanzo Shimada?" Jesse repeated, then laughed. "You sure that wasn't Hawkeye?"

 

Genji turned towards him. His green visor was impossible to read.

 

Jesse grinned weakly. "You know, the comic book superhero? He uses a bow and arrow?"

 

Genji clearly had no intention of following along, choosing instead to head back towards the transport. The arrow was gone from his foot, and as he walked it was not with a limp, but a stutter - machinery starting and stopping. 

 

A little deflated, Jesse looked back at Gabriel, who muttered something about not wanting to explain this to Angela and Jack. The commander was favoring his right leg, but otherwise seemed to be all right.

 

"What about this?" Jesse gestured at the scattered, groaning - and in some cases, dead silent - aftermath of their battle.

 

"The Shimada will take care of it," Genji called back. "They have no wish for either the police or the media to catch wind of this."

 

_ Guess that's settled. _ Jesse turned his attention back to the hat over in his hands, and wondered if this tear rendered it unwearable. He began fiddling with the holes, running his fingers along the ragged edges until Gabriel let out an exasperated breath and snatched it out of his hands. "Hey!"

 

"I'll fix it for you, brat - so get on the damn transport.  _ And _ -" Gabriel glared, and Jesse winced. "We're going to have a little talk about picking your  _ goddamn battles. _ " 

 

With that, Gabriel limped off towards the transport. Jesse followed, but not without another glance backwards at the battle's aftermath. 

 

What in blazing hell was that  _ thing _ back there? If Gabriel hadn't shoved him out of harm's way, Jesse was pretty sure he would've ended up as a lump of charred flesh.

 

_ So that was Hanzo Shimada _ .


	2. Chapter 2

At the sound of a gun cocking behind him, Hanzo closed his eyes. He wouldn't be making that trip back to Hanamura, then. Maybe that was for the best.

 

He opened his eyes and turned, hands carefully raised. The elders had always told him,  _ Never shrink from reality. Face it with an open mind and determination _ .

 

They'd also told him to kill Genji. Hanzo resisted the urge to flinch.

 

" _ Please come with us, Shimada-san _ ." The woman's Japanese was tinged with an American accent, and her smile was just shy of genuine. " _ We'd just like to have a conversation _ ."

 

Hanzo eyed her companions, all considerably grimmer in demeanor. While only one man had a pistol out, the other two almost certainly had their own concealed underneath their heavy jackets

 

"If you simply wish to talk, there is no need for threats," he said in English. 

 

She laughed, switching languages as well. "Considering the fate of the last two people we sent, forgive me for assuming otherwise.

 

At her gesture, one of her men stepped forward and picked up both Hanzo's travel bag and his bow case. The other kept a steady bead on him.

 

"We'll take care of your possessions." She stepped up to him, sliding an arm around his waist. He gritted his teeth when something prodded him through his jacket, right where her hand rested over his hip. She smiled again. "Your cooperation is appreciated."

 

He nodded stiffly.  _ When in your enemy's power, wait. An opportunity will present itself. _

 

As they exited the room he'd been staying in for the past couple of days — _idiocy, to stay so long_ — the man carrying his bags spoke into an earpiece, confirming that yes, they'd successfully found the target and were waiting for extraction. 

 

When they'd descended the stairs into the bar proper, no one paid them any attention. Which was only natural  — this place was a popular meeting ground for bounty hunters or other undesirables; people who would tell you their price rather than laugh, when you said you wanted to kill someone.

 

People like him.

 

They were halfway to the door when someone stumbled into their path. Hanzo recognizing him immediately. What was Robert doing?

 

Two nights ago, the limited number of seats at the bar counter had forced Hanzo to sit next to the absurdly-dressed man. They'd exchanged brief introductions, and  — thankfully — that had been it. While Hanzo nursed his drink in relative peace, Robert laughed and exchanged small talk with the rest of the patrons. Evidently, he wasn't the type of man who'd let the simple fact of their profession get him down; at one point, he managed to get a bark of laughter out of the bartender — and a roar of laughter out of the rest of the room — by exaggerating his drawl until only twanged vowels remained. It was ridiculous.

 

And it had been charming.

 

So despite himself, Hanzo found himself sitting next to Robert the next night. Robert had grinned at him, and Hanzo had looked away and did his best to pretend that the warmth coiling in his gut was merely alcohol. 

 

After another glass, they'd managed a little more conversation that night, as the cowboy  — it was hard to think of him as anything else — seemed unbothered by the terseness of Hanzo's replies. If anything, Robert had seemed more subdued than he'd been last night. So while the television overhead prattled on about the grand opening of the Vaktport Memorial to the general public, one year after the explosion in Switzerland, Hanzo talked, more than he had in months.

 

But this? Hanzo loathed public spectacle. 

 

"Hey, Shou, where're you headed?" Robert slurred, drawing a snickers from a table off in the corner. "Thought you said we could go another round tonight."

 

Even as Hanzo's fists clenched, he was abruptly reminded that his libido had absolutely no standards at the sight of Robert's lazy smirk peeking out from the man's ridiculous hat. Genji had always teased him about that, but the elders had been considerably more critical. 

 

_ Put your own desires behind you. You serve the clan! _

 

Hanzo shoved the memories back down, right as Maria cut in, tone chilly. "Sorry, but I'm about to discuss some business matters with him." 

 

She tried to tug Hanzo back, but he refused to budge. Her grip tightened, and he could feel a cold pinprick against his waist. An injector, then.

 

"Aw, c'mon. Can't it wait?" Robert leaned closer, resting a large forearm on Hanzo's shoulder. His breath ghosted over Hanzo's face. And right as Maria's accomplices moved to intervene, Hanzo realized that Robert's breath was distinctly free of alcohol.

 

Maria doubled over, gasping for breath. As the bartender and the rest of the guests left in the bar started yelling, whatever device she'd pressed to him earlier tumbled to the ground. 

 

Even as Hanzo came to the conclusion that the cowboy had likely punched Maria in the stomach, he turned and slammed his palm into the face of the man behind him. Something crunched, and his victim stumbled backwards, clutching at his nose. With a right hook to the jaw, Hanzo knocked him out cold.

 

The rest of Maria's team had whipped their own pistols out from their jackets, but before either of them could even take aim, two gunshots rang out. They jerked, one after the other, and crumpled to the ground.

 

Robert looked positively dangerous like this; his eyes had gone flat, his lips pressed into a thin line.

 

Hanzo fought down the urge to stare, choosing instead to assess the situation. The bartender and the rest of the patrons had fled. Maybe one of them had called the police, if they were foolish enough.

 

As he absentmindedly slipped his knife back onto his belt, he reflected on that sad fact that even if the department had been called, there was plenty of time to leave. Despite the decades that had passed since the omnic crisis, this district of the city had never recovered. Officers rarely ventured here if they could help it, which was a major reason this establishment had flourished in the first place.

"So."

 

At the sound of Robert's voice, Hanzo looked over and was met with an amused smile. 

 

"Anybody else we need to worry about?"

 

"They called for transportation, but I don't know where they were planning to meet. I should leave." He slung his bag over his shoulder, and picked up his bow case. He looked down at Maria, who'd passed out. "What did you do to her?"

 

"My left arm's a prosthetic, so I think I broke half of her ribs. Probably passed out from the pain." 

 

Hanzo nodded sharply, then turned to leave. 

 

_ Always respond graciously to assistance. _

 

He grimaced at the memory, then said, "I appreciate your assistance."

 

"Ain't nothin'," Robert replied.

 

Another second passed. Hanzo picked up his case and bracing himself as he did so. "Why did you help me?"

 

"Oh, why?" Robert scratched his chin, seemingly unconcerned. "Let's just say I'm pretty sure I know which organization they work for, and that if they wanted you, it wasn't for contract work."

 

"I see."

 

"I know I was a little forward earlier, but that was the first thing I could think of." Robert chuckled softly at himself, then stretched a hand out. After a second, Hanzo shook it. "Nice meeting you, Shou."

 

The natural course of action would be to respond with an equally empty pleasantry, drop Robert's hand, and walk right out.

 

Instead, Hanzo lingered.

 

The world slowed, shrinking down to the two of them. As silence filled the room, Robert looked at their clasped hands and back at him, but didn't let go.

 

And then Hanzo realized  — he had lingered, but Robert had, too. 

 

He dropped the handshake, but instead of leaving, he stepped forward. Right up to Robert, whose eyes had gone wide, whose breathing had gone shallow. 

 

"Han —Shou, I—," Hanzo heard Robert say, but the words were drowned out by his pounding pulse.

 

_ Never allow for even the possibility of sentiment. _

 

Hanzo put a hand on the back of Robert's head, and tugged. Their lips fell together.

 

Robert's lips were warm, chapped and rough; his beard gently scratched Hanzo's chin as he tilted his head, searching for more purchase.

 

Then he realized that Robert wasn't reciprocating. 

 

He pulled back.

 

"Do you not want this?" Hanzo asked. 

 

Robert opened his mouth, but said nothing. His brow furrowed. 

 

"I will stop, then." Hanzo stepped away and slung his pack over his shoulder. His gut soured at the thought of sinking low enough to imagine his one-sided attraction as anything other than that.

 

A cold, heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He turned, irritation spiking within his gut. Humiliating, yes, to be so forward and to be so resoundingly rejected, but he could live with that. However, he detested those who refused to let a matter drop. He'd honestly thought Robert better than that.

 

His face must've said as much, judging from the speed with which Robert drew back. Another slip  — such a display of emotion in itself would've been worth another scolding from the elders, back then. 

 

Frustration joined embarrassment, and Hanzo could not stop himself from snapping out, "What."

 

"Shou, look - it's not that I'm not interested, but …" Robert took off his hat - revealing matted, sweaty hair - and thumbed the edges, avoiding Hanzo's gaze. 

 

The hat. Before, Hanzo hadn't paid it much attention, but something about it seemed familiar. 

 

The stetson in Robert's hands was worn and stained - but in remarkably good shape despite its evident age. And from this angle, Hanzo could see the occasional line of stitches, some tidy, tight, and practiced; others uneven. Gun shells joined a golden emblem on its brim, gleaming in the light, and the bright display brought an old memory to the surface. 

 

The unloading of an arms shipment, turned horrifyingly bloody. 

 

The sickly glow of an omnic, its blade still dripping scarlet. 

 

The people who'd laid down their lives for him, slain. 

 

And a shooter, almost perfectly concealed in shadow, given away by only by the gaudy glitter of gold from atop his head. 

 

Robert's eyes finally met his, but Hanzo's rage had obliterated any desire to hear what the man had to say. 

 

How could he have been so  _ stupid _ . 

 

" _ You _ ." Hanzo gritted out. And every lingering doubt he possessed was dispelled by the way grim resignation settled onto Robert's face.

 

Hanzo went for his knife. Robert went for  — his gun? No, the revolver's holster was on the right, not the left - and right as he hurled the blade towards Robert, there was a blinding flash of light. 

 

It thudded into the distant wall, as Hanzo stumbled - ears ringing, vision white.

 

There was an eerie silence, before Robert groaned.

 

"Not  _ again."  _ The frustration in the man's voice was almost comical.

 

As Hanzo fought off the sudden wave of nausea, he could hear Robert stomping off towards where the knife had audibly embedded itself in the wall. 

 

Robert grunted once, then headed for the back entrance. His footsteps slowed to a halt near Hanzo, and something was gently placed on the ground. Then they faded off into the distance.

 

When Hanzo could finally see again, his knife was there, right in front of his feet, and Robert was long gone.

 

Questions and hypotheses crowded his mind, but as Hanzo slipped out the back entrance, only one thought remained.

 

Robert had worked with the omnic who'd torn the Shimada apart. So Hanzo was going to find him and tear every scrap of information the man knew out from his lazy, lying mouth.

 

Hanzo spat on the ground.

 

Bastard.


	3. Chapter 3

If Winston's device didn't finish its data transfer in the next five minutes, Jesse was going to suffer permanent hearing loss. Each shrill shriek of the alarm they'd set off bled into the next, echoing off the metal passageways of the Detroit omnium until he was sorely tempted to put a bullet through every speaker in sight.

 

Instead, Jesse looked back from his position at the server room's doorway as Angela tapped out a message to Winston, informing the scientist of the situation. The only sign that she could hear the present cacophony was her furrowed brow. After a particularly grating screech, he hollered to the person standing guard with him, "Didn't Winston say this would be a 'milk run'?"

 

Genji's reply  — distorted as it was — held a discernable note of amusement. "Tell me, McCree — when has any mission with the two of us gone smoothly?"

 

Jesse grimaced at the memories that statement brought back. But as Genji's shoulders started to shake with laughter at the expression on his face, Jesse's scowl faded into an involuntary smile.

 

It was remarkable, how much Genji had changed  — even after he'd warmed up to Jesse back in the days of Blackwatch and Gabriel, the man rarely showed emotion outside the range of "grim determination" and "vengeful fury". But in the intervening time since Overwatch's fall, Genji had found peace — and while his 'spiritual teacher' unnerved Jesse at times, but he couldn't help but be grateful to Zenyatta for what he'd done for his friend.

 

Finally, Mercy stepped out of the server room, and held up Winston's datastick in response to their questioning glances. With the main mission objective accomplished, Genji began to lead them back through the labyrinth of hallways and stairs towards the maintenance tunnel they'd entered from. Despite the alarm they'd tripped  — and the several Helix Security personnel certainly headed their way as a result — they kept radio silence on their line to Winston and Tracer, who were back at the helijet. 

 

The secrecy was nothing new to Jesse and Genji, but Angela had clearly been a bit disconcerted. It was necessary, though  — They didn't have access to secure voice channels yet, and the longer they kept Overwatch's revival off the radar of the U.N. Security Council, the better. Angela had also been forced to strip her Valkyrie suit down to just its wings and harness, and cover it all up with a dark, hooded sweatshirt. Next to Tracer and Winston, she was probably the most recognizable member of Overwatch with them.

 

Finally, they made their way to the hallway just outside the omnium's final assembly room. It was instantly recognizable, both by the eight massive steel beams holding up the roof, and by virtue of its sheer size. The actual assembly line entered the room through a small opening near the ceiling, winding around the supporting beams on its way down to ground level. Inert robotic arms dangled from the ceiling, seemingly ready to begin building more war machines at a moment's notice. The only real concessions for humans were the catwalks spanning the gaps between the massive metal pillars and the service door that had allowed them to enter the omnium proper from the maintenance tunnel.

 

Genji stepped out the hallway  — but jerked back at the gunshot that rang out. A bullet ricocheted its way down the hallway.

 

"You are trespassing in a area restricted by federal and international law." The speaker was hidden, but if one took into account the angle and direction of the fired bullet, as well as the general layout of the assembly room, she was probably up on one of the catwalks, taking cover behind one of the support beams. The Helix guard continued, "Please lay down any weapons you possess and surrender quietly, or we will be permitted to use deadly force in accordance with the Omnium Security Act."

 

Jesse grimaced. While they could conceivably make their way across to the service door by using the steel beams and production machinery as cover, it would then be remarkably easy for the people here to coordinate with another patrol to surround them in the maintenance tunnel. But even though he had a general idea of where one of them was, the her teammates would probably take him out the second he drew his revolver.

 

An alternate route, perhaps? Or —

 

A short burst of gunfire from above interrupted his thoughts, and Jesse instinctively pressed himself to the wall. A second later, he realized none of the shots had been aimed at the hallway they were hiding in.

 

So there was another intruder, then. Perhaps it was Talon. But no matter who it was, they weren't going to get a better opportunity to escape anytime soon.

 

He edged over, peeked out around the hallway entrance  — and was promptly shoved down by Angela as something whizzed by overhead. A sudden breeze ruffled his hair, and Jesse realized his hat had disappeared.

 

Angela tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed ahead. His stetson had been pinned by an arrow to the nearest support beam.

 

Jesse stared at the sight. Surely Hanzo wasn't still after him?

 

After that disastrous encounter several years ago, the man had done his best to hunt him down. It made Jesse's life considerably more difficult  — finishing contracts were complicated enough without an enraged ex-yakuza-clan-leader chasing you down. 

 

Hanzo had given up, a couple months back  — and when Jesse finally figured that out, Winston's recall message had already reached him. So he'd decided to leave Hanzo Shimada in the past. 

 

It was unlikely that Hanzo was here for him, Jesse mused. Then he realized something, and felt embarrassment warm his cheeks for being so dense.

 

There was someone else with them Hanzo Shimada had unfinished business with.

 

Right on cue, Genji stepped out from the safety of the hallway, ignoring Angela's hiss at him to get back in cover. He stood there a second but neither bullet nor arrow greeted him. Finally, he called out, "Brother?"

 

Next to Jesse, Angela's face went tight with understanding. The two of them waited there, but as time continued to tick past, Angela's expression gave way to confusion.

 

After another minute of silence, Genji's shoulders lowered in defeat. "We should go. The other patrols will be here soon."

 

"What about the Helix Security personnel?" Mercy asked before Jesse could speak. "I'd like to make sure their condition is stable if we're leaving them here like this."

 

Well, it seemed that the good doctor never changed. Jesse laughed softly, then said, "Well, do we know that Hanzo's isn't going to turn us into —"

 

Another shot rang out, but it wasn't the  _ rat-tat-tat _ of the guards' semi-automatic rifles from earlier. 

 

It was the boom of a shotgun. 

 

Blue streaks of light exploded out from behind the support beam in the far corner, and another shotgun blast echoed around the assembly room. A third intruder? This was turning into somewhat of a farce. 

 

Hanzo!" Genji cried. He ran over to the beam where Jesse's hat was still hanging from; as he began scaling it, Mercy tossed her sweatshirt to the ground. Her wings sprang out and open, and with a sinking feeling, Jesse recognized the look in her eye.

 

"Angela, wait —"

 

With a  _ whoosh _ , she took off towards Genji, alighting on a catwalk some thirty feet above Jesse's head right. As the ninja dashed towards his brother's hiding space, she followed at a safe distance, and Jesse frowned. Angela knew that Genji could take care of himself, and none of them knew the current status of the Helix personnel Hanzo had presumably incapacitated. Why would she ignore them?

 

Jesse, for his part, retrieved his hat from Hanzo's arrow, where it had firmly embedded itself into the steel support beam. Tugging the stetson firmly back onto his head, he considered the maintenance ladder on the beam's opposite side. It led up to the catwalk where everybody else was, but he'd be exposed while climbing. The armor he wore wasn't nearly as light as that of the other two, either, so he'd probably be vulnerable when he reached the top.

 

Another shotgun blast, accompanied by the clash of metal striking metal, and Jesse made his decision. He stepped onto the first rung and began climbing.

 

It couldn't have taken that long  — no more than a minute at most, but it felt like forever. When he finally made it onto the catwalk, he ignored his aching muscles and began to jog over to where the other two had gone. Unfortunately, he was too late. There was no sign of the shotgun-wielding assailant when he walked up to Genji and Angela. 

 

As Jesse drew closer, he could see the doctor's healing staff focused on the man's leg  — judging from the mess on the floor, the man might've already bled out if the good doctor hadn't been here.

 

Angela looked up, face drawn and white. "McCree."

 

"Was it Reaper?" he asked, remembering Winston's description of the Talon agent that had appeared at Gibraltar. She gave a short nod, and he frowned. That was strange, too. She'd faced down much worse than a single Talon agent in the golden days of Overwatch  — and judging from the way Genji was looking at her, the man had similar thoughts. But before he could ask any more questions, she tossed him a small pouch. When he opened it, he found a small fortune in biotic emitters staring back at him.

 

"Check on the Helix personnel, please."

 

He looked at her a second longer, but she simply looked back at him, jaw setting in a stubborn line.

 

Jesse clearly wasn't going to get anything useful out of her right now, so he went off to find where the security guards had been before Hanzo had taken them out of commission.

 

Every one of them were unconscious, even though Hanzo's arrows had simply grazed them. Evidently, the man had coated the arrowheads with some sort of tranquilizer. Other than that, there weren't any injuries the emitters couldn't fix. They'd be sore when they woke up, but nothing worse than that.

 

Mercy was standing when he returned, looking down at Hanzo with something that resembled distaste. When he held out the emitter pouch, she took it, glancing briefly at him. Her mouth opened, as if to say something  — then she clearly thought better of it and turned away.

"Genji wants to bring him back to Gibraltar." 

 

He nodded, and she shot him an irritated glance over her shoulder. 

 

"What?"

 

"Hanzo almost  _ killed _ him." Her tone is incredulous.

 

He shrugged, doing his best to keep his face neutral. "It's Genji's choice in the end."

 

To be honest, the thought of Hanzo staying at Gibraltar sent an chaotic mix of emotions and memories through Jesse: the unexpected attraction he'd felt at the sight of Hanzo, slightly flushed at the bar, animatedly describing the gardens of the Forbidden Palace; the thrill of seeing Hanzo in action, as they'd successfully disarmed the Talon unit sent after the archer; and the sour feeling in his gut as the man had finally pieced together who "Robert" was, right in front of him.

 

He didn't want to think about the kiss.

 

Genji's return forestalled any further discussion. Jesse hoisted Hanzo onto his back, and they descended down to ground level.

 

It was a silent trip out of the omnium, but not remotely a pleasant one. It turned out that a group of Helix guards had been in the tunnel  — but Reaper had taken them all out. Their corpses were stiff, faces devoid of the color of life; Jesse couldn't help but spare them a moment of pity as they moved past. Again, Angela seemed the most affected out of all of them at that sight — her lips ended up pressed so tightly together they'd drained of blood.

 

It was a relief when they finally left the tunnel and exited the compound's perimeter. Tracer greeted them as they walked up to the helijet, curiously looking over at Hanzo before calling Winston over.

 

Shortly, they took off. After a quick debrief, Jesse excused himself; he had no wish to participate in the discussion Angela, Genji, and Winston were about to have about Hanzo. 

 

He idled for a bit, exchanging small talk with Tracer, until he finally gave in and headed to the back of the plane.

 

Hanzo looked troubled, grimacing in his sleep. Jesse reached out a hand, then paused, confused at himself. What was he even planning to do?

 

Right then, Hanzo's eyes opened. Jesse froze, and the man's dazed gaze focused on him. His eyes sharpened, narrowed, and it was all Jesse could do to keep his expression neutral.

 

" _ You, _ " the man snarled, and Jesse winced, then grinned weakly. 

 

"Me," he said. 

 

"Where is Genji?"

 

"Talking with some other people. I'll go get him —" Jesse turned to call out, then realized the man had fallen unconscious again, his stern face gaining some softness in the process.

 

He looked at the man for a long time, then turned to go.


	4. Chapter 4

Hanzo's gaze narrowed down to the target in front of him. Mechanically, he drew an arrow, put it to his bow, and let it go with a _twang_. 

 

Once more, he thought about leaving. Winston would let him go, he believed  — the gorilla had been polite, but not warm; his gregarious nature evidently dampened by the fact that Hanzo had turned his brother into a corpse and left while Genji was still breathing.

 

Funny, even  — Hanzo could never have imagined how many friends Genji had gained until his 'rescue' by Overwatch placed him somewhere where everyone clearly wished him gone.

 

Another arrow, another shot, another bullseye. Hanzo forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand  — namely, the fact that he was both wasting time and being a burden. 

 

He woke early this morning, as he did every morning, on an cold cot in an old room, far away from the rest of those here. He ate in the cafeteria, silent, enough to fuel him for the rest of the day. And he left for the further, most secluded practice range in Gibraltar that he can find, and was just as likely to spend the rest of his day there as he did the day before.

 

He was here. Genji was here. But to his dismay, Hanzo had found himself unable to move, to take the first step, and retreating to safe routine. He knew this, had told himself this morning that this was the day, that today  — today he would walk up to Genji and ask his brother if they could talk.

 

In the end, he found himself back here. His back to the ocean, facing straw targets and the concrete wall behind them, doing nothing.

 

He cannot imagine Genji's patience lasting much longer. And when that went, he had no more reason to stay, nor the goodwill required to, even if he wished to.

 

Another arrow embedded itself in the red circle center of the target, alongside half a dozen of its brothers. He sighed and stepped forward to pull them loose. Any more shots and he'd start to split them, and he had no wish to waste good arrows.

 

"So this is where you've been hidin' all this time." The drawl was familiar, as was the responding warmth in Hanzo's stomach.

 

He gritted his teeth. Of all the people on this base, the person he wished to avoid the most was  _ him _ .

"I do not wish to talk with you." He strode forward to the targets, but McCree easily kept up.

 

"Well, I do." The cowboy's easy tone belied his choice of words. "It's about Genji."

 

That growing warmth in his stomach curdled, right as they arrived at the targets. Hanzo closed his fingers around an arrow shaft and yanked it out. Straw fluttered down to the ground. "What about him?"

 

"You." The man's direct gaze did nothing to sting the blow of his words. "He doesn't say anything, but it's clear as day. You should talk —"

 

"And what do  _ you _ know about Genji?" Hanzo snarled, before he could think twice.

 

There was a couple seconds of silence before McCree finally said, "Plenty."

 

The man's tone was no longer easygoing. Hanzo found that he didn't care, the shame usually following such emotional outbursts turning instead to anger. His hands clenched into fists as McCree continued talking.

 

"Look,  _ sunshine _ ," the man bit out. "Do you have any idea how bad Genji was when we worked together? He barely talked to anyone. He only came to mess hall when no one else was there. And —"

 

McCree continued speaking, and guilt stabbed at Hanzo with every new sentence. Genji, who'd always tried to make other laugh, delivering cutting put-downs instead. Genji, always so enthusiastic about meeting people from around the world, isolating himself in a place as diverse as Overwatch.

 

He grabbed another arrow shaft, ignoring the way his vision was starting to swim, and yanked it out.

 

"The only time I ever heard him laugh was —"

 

"Stop." Hanzo's words came out more choked than he intended, to his credit, McCree did _. _

 

"Hanzo?" McCree asked, his tone of voice suddenly unbearable for Hanzo to listen to.

 

When he failed to reply, the cowboy took a step forward — _too close_ — and something twisted, hard and violent, in Hanzo's gut.

 

McCree called out to Hanzo again, and instead of just standing there, enduring that sickening gentleness in the man's voice, Hanzo turned and swung, fist sinking into the cowboy's stomach. 

 

McCree stumbled backwards, wheezing. Hanzo smirked as guilt, humiliation, and unwanted desire twisted themselves into smug satisfaction. The cowboy evidently hadn't worn his armor today.

 

Fool.

 

"Hey, wait!" The man yelped, but Hanzo was already upon him.

 

As his body flowed into punches and kicks he'd practiced since childhood, Hanzo became acutely aware that McCree was not fighting back.

 

More coddling. Hanzo began herding McCree towards the concrete wall of the practice range  — while the man was competent enough to hold Hanzo off, he was slowly losing ground.

 

When McCree's back finally bumped into the wall behind him, he stared down at Hanzo, wide-eyed, right as Hanzo stepped forward and sent his fist hurtling at the cowboy's face.

 

But instead of smashing into the soft cartilage of the man's nose, Hanzo found his knuckles crashing into a hard, smooth surface.

 

Hanzo stared at the hat sandwiched between the concrete wall and his fist. The worn felt had provided little cushion, and the pain radiating out from his knuckles snapped him back to reality.

 

He'd attacked an Overwatch agent while on an Overwatch base. 

 

He'd attacked one of Genji's friends.

 

Hanzo closed his eyes. Perhaps this was for the best. He couldn't possibly stay, not after — 

 

A soft chuckle broke into his thoughts. Hanzo looked down at McCree, who grinned up at him.

 

"Hey, Hanzo." The drawl was back. "You got something against my hat or something?"

 

Hanzo stared blankly at McCree as the cowboy carefully retrieved his hat and placed it back upon his head, then managed to say, "I don't understand."

 

The man laughed again. "So far, you've put an arrow, a knife, another arrow, and now a fist through it."

 

"Oh," Hanzo said. He still wasn't quite sure what McCree was talking about, but the man didn't seem angry anymore. He turned back to the target he'd been pulling arrows out of earlier, and forced himself to say, "I apologize for attacking you."

 

McCree waved it away, standing back up. "Water under the bridge. Just go talk to Genji, all right?"

 

"What?"

 

The cowboy looked at him and repeated, "Go talk to Genji. That's what I came up here to say, anyways. The tension's killin' him."

 

_ Oh. _

 

After using McCree for sparring practice, Hanzo feels raw  — which might explain the sudden heat of embarrassment rushing to his cheeks, enough to be visible. The other man grins in response, something flickering in his eyes.

 

Hanzo looks away, but as a cold, heavy hand landed on his shoulder, he couldn't help but tense up.

 

He turned, and looked back at McCree.

 

The cowboy was dangerous like this, with his eyes warm, his lips curved into a gentle smile; Hanzo hunched his shoulders, and faced forwards again.

 

"I will talk to him tomorrow," he said. 

 

McCree snorted, scorn evident in the sound.

 

"I will talk to him today," Hanzo amended, glaring at the cowboy. "Leave me be."

 

McCree smiled, and headed off without another word.

 

* * *

 

As he turned the corner and stepped into the cafeteria, Hanzo found he couldn't relax. His back stayed stiff, his hands stayed clenched, and the silence that fell upon the rest of the room did not help his nerves in the slightest.

 

Genji had frozen right where he was sitting, and didn't move, even as Hanzo marched right up to him.

 

"Can we talk?" The words smashed into the silence of the mess hall, and Hanzo found himself regretting his choice and tone of words  — too terse, too demanding.

 

The omnic his brother called a 'spiritual guide' turned and looked over the room, and the general murmur of conversation in the room abruptly started back up, at a volume one might call overenthusiastic.

 

Hanzo remained there, staring down at the robotic man that had been, and was, his brother. The world seemed to have shrunk down to the two of them.

 

Genji stood up and tilted his head towards him.

 

"Of course."


	5. Chapter 5

Finally, freedom. Jesse whistles tunelessly as he steps out of the clinic on Gibraltar — apparently, he'd been laid up in there for half a week after being flown in. Even Angela couldn't fix some things overnight, it seemed.

 

He should probably thank Lena for finding him in that alleyway  — while nobody in Overwatch knew what Gabriel might've done if he'd come across Jesse in such dire state, there wasn't really a question of what would've become of him if it had been anybody else from Talon.

 

Jesse shudders, and pushes the thought aside. He has no wish to turn out like Lacroix. 

 

It then occurs to him that both of the Shimada brothers must be back from their mission in Hanamura, and Jesse brightens. Maybe he could challenge Hanzo to another game of darts.

 

Then a part of his mind that sounds suspiciously like Gabe whispers,  _ maybe this time, you'll finally sack up and kiss him _ .

 

Right as Jesse flushes red at the thought, someone hisses, "What were you  _ thinking _ ."

 

"Oh, Hanzo! You were just on my mind," he says, valiantly doing his best to push down the memories of a kiss several years old.

 

"Is that so," Hanzo says, clearly unimpressed. Jesse frowns. 

 

"Hanzo, what's wrong?"

 

The archer stalks towards him instead of replying, and Jesse finds himself backing up. When he finally bumps up against the hallway wall, he stares down at Hanzo, confused, as the man steps forward  — leaving them not quite touching, but definitely closer together than would be proper in public.

 

"Why on earth did you deem it wise," the man spits out, "to wander down a deserted alleyway, by yourself, when you  _ knew _ there were still Talon agents in the area?"

 

Jesse gives Hanzo a weak grin, and hopes that suffices as a reply. Judging by the stormclouds gathering over the man's face, it does not.

 

He says, "I thought I heard something."

 

Which was the honest truth. He just hadn't expected to get kneecapped the second he'd passed out of sight of the rest of the team. It was a miracle he'd managed to take out the five agents through the pain.

 

Hanzo just snarls at him and takes another breath, presumably to fuel another diatribe. Then he seems to realize just how close the two of them are standing to one another, and he freezes. 

 

They stand there, breathing in each other faces.

 

The world seems to grind to a halt, shrinking down to just the two of them. Hanzo meets Jesse's gaze, but he doesn't move.

 

Gently, slowly, Jesse places a hand on the back of Hanzo's head. After another second, he slowly bends down, and their lips meet.

 

Hanzo's mouth is soft, warm; as Jesse gently mouths at his lips, the archer presses his warm weight flush against Jesse, gently pinning him against the wall.

 

This lasts for some time. Finally, the two of them spring apart, wide-eyed, at the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat nearby.

 

Angela looks over the pair of them before saying, "I'm very pleased for the two of you, but we do try to encourage a professional atmosphere here at Overwatch."

 

She turns to head back into the clinic, obviously amused. "Please remember that you both each have perfectly functional,  _ private _ living quarters to take advantage of."

 

Jesse looks at Hanzo, but before he can even ask, the man jerks his head in the direction of his quarters.

 

Right before they leave, Angela's voice calls out from the clinic doors, "Jesse, don't forget you have a physical tomorrow."

 

Jesse hollers back, "Got it, doc!", and then Hanzo tugs him away.


End file.
